The Shirt Off His Back
by PinkElephant5
Summary: SPOILERS for 5x01 promo. Since the coffee maker is not in his bedroom, she needs a shirt. So here she is, standing in his enormous closet, shuffling through the options and having a surprisingly hard time deciding what to wear. A random little one-shot based on a trivial detail.


_I, like you, am so starved for new footage that I obsessively replayed all 20 seconds of that sweet, sweet promo nectar until a trivial detail triggered this little whatever-it-is. Hope you enjoy it. :)_

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Her shirt is still wet. His shirt is— well, there might be a few buttons missing from his shirt. Possibly all of them. She can't repress the grin that spreads across her face at the memory of the surprised hum of laughter he transferred to her mouth-to-mouth, his delight obvious when she lost patience with her fine motor skills and pulled the front of his shirt open with a quick jerk. Now that she thinks about it, she does remember the skittering noise of multiple button projectiles hitting hardwood.

She wants to bring _him_ coffee this time, just to see the smile on _his_ face. Since the coffee maker is not in his bedroom, she needs a shirt. So here she is, standing in his enormous closet, shuffling through the options and having a surprisingly hard time deciding what to wear.

_Blue_. That electric, cobalt blue that makes his eyes practically glow. He looks amazing in this color, and she suspects he knows it. The quirky, slightly smug grin in his book jacket photo gives it away. It's the first color she associated with him, thanks to those book jackets, even more than the blood and passion red that his prose evoked in her imagination long before they met. That said, she didn't sleep with her favorite author last night. Okay, yes she did. But not on purpose. She slept with her partner, and friend, and the man she just realized she doesn't want to live without. It's not her fault they turned out to be the same person.

_Blue and white stripes._ She's surprised to see it here, looking so clean. Surprised he was able to get all the dirt stains out after their night of digging up buried treasure in a graveyard. She remembers the sweaty, uniquely Castle smell of him when she hugged him in celebration. She also remembers her reunion with Royce on that case, and all the bittersweet memories that go with him. She doesn't want to think about old partners and lovers and betrayals today. Next option.

_Black sweatshirt_. She sees it folded up on a shelf and smiles to remember Castle in the role of self-appointed bodyguard. She doubts that any other protector would come armed with a $100 bottle of wine and make pancakes in the morning, or have so few actual bodyguarding skills, but in retrospect it was thoughtful and sweet. Also, that new filter he ordered for her coffee maker really did make a big difference. That might be a fun reversal, actually: him finding her making pancakes in his kitchen wearing the same shirt. But no, a sweatshirt is too warm for this sunny day. Besides, she's not ready to shift focus to the kitchen yet. Definitely in a bedroom frame of mind.

_Gray pinstriped_. Their first kiss. It may have been part of a ruse to save Ryan and Esposito from Hal Lockwood, but she's not _that_ good an actress. Mentally returning to that moment still has the power to catch her breath and quicken her heartbeat. The look in his eyes wasn't an act either; she knew that even then. Beyond the kiss, it was also one of many times he had her back, a real partner throwing real punches at a trained killer. Who would have thought that a metrosexual millionaire playboy shadow would save her life so many times? _Always_, he had said. She wasn't ready then for the undeniable chemistry of that kiss, or the way he looked at her in unguarded moments. Now she's fighting the urge to wake him up so she can see it again. No more ruses and blind eyes; not this shirt either.

_19th Century, missing one lace cuff._ Nope. No zombies today. She feels more alive than she ever has. Besides, it would probably give him an aneurism to wake up and find her shuffling towards him wearing that. She glances through the door at his peaceful sleeping form, half-covered by a skewed sheet. No, she hopes there will be no disguises today. No more hiding.

_Blue again_. The man really does own a lot of blue shirts. He could probably tell her the names of each different shade. She makes a mental note to ask and then tease him about it sometime. Another memory flashes through her mind, of wheeling a gurney out of the New Amsterdam Bank and Trust, turning to hold Castle's eyes as he silently watches her leave him behind, trusting her to save them. She had been painfully aware at the time that if things went south, it could have been the last moment she saw him alive. He was wearing blue that day, too. Thankfully, it seems that whether they are forcibly separated or involuntarily joined at the wrist, they still manage to catch bad guys and save lives. They are greater as a team than the sum of their parts. A promising foundation for something more, Kate thinks. But still not the blue today; she'd rather dwell on how well their parts fit together instead of how well they manage while apart.

_Black_. She remembers everything about the day she was shot. That means that lying in the grass at Montgomery's funeral will always be the first time she heard him say "I love you." And the second time will always be two nights ago, when she almost drove him away for good. But the third time was different, when he spoke it close to her ear and she felt it reverberate through her skin all night. The fourth and fifth and fiftieth times will be different, too, and she hopes to remember each with equal clarity. Not black; this is not a day for mourning.

_White._ Basic, plain white. The kind of shirt every man owns. It might even be the shirt he was wearing the night they met, when she pulled him out of his own release party to question him. He probably owns half a dozen shirts just like it, but she'd like to think it's the same one. They are the same people they were that first night, but also not. The last four years have certainly changed her, and she thinks they've changed him a little, too. In a way, the two of them are also blank, unwritten, awaiting the future they could have together. They _will_ have together. She likes the potential of a white shirt.

As she slips it on and glances in the closet mirror, she notices that it's a little bit see-through and smiles. Good. Just because she chose it carefully doesn't mean she wants to leave it on all day. It hints at the curves beneath and the shades of light and dark he explored with such reverence and relish last night, and so Kate has high hopes that Castle will take back his shirt very soon.

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_**A/N**: I don't honestly think Beckett will put this much time and energy into her wardrobe choice, but it was a fun exercise for me. And a good excuse to rewatch various clips to see what Castle was wearing. ;) Thanks for reading!_

_Do you have any favorite Castle shirts you'd like her to find in his closet? I'm sure I missed some good choices._


End file.
